Taking the figure under my arm, I followed him into what he called "the
office"--a small and dirty room, crowded with old furniture in the last
stage of dilapidation. From a desk in one corner he took a large tome
labelled "Stock Book," to which he referred, after glancing at a
hieroglyphical device pasted on the figure which I held under my arm.

"Yes, sir--had that ever since the 14th of March, 1880--bought it at
Morris & Blackwell's sale, sir."

"Who and what are Messrs. Morris & Blackwell?" I enquired.

"They _were_ auctioneers, down on Adelaide Street, in the city,
sir. Failed sometime last winter. Mr. Morris has since died, and I
believe Blackwell, the other partner went to the States."

After a few more questions, finding that he knew nothing whatever about
the matter beyond what he had already told me, I paid over the fifty
cents; and, declining with thanks his offer to send my purchase home to
me, I marched off with it down the street, and made the best of my way
back to the Rossin House, where I had been staying for some days
before.

From what has been said, it will be inferred that I--a stranger in
Canada--must have had some special reason for incumbering myself in my
travels with an intrinsically worthless piece of common Columbia
marble.

I _had_ a reason. I had often seen that little figure before; and
the last time I had seen it, previous to the occasion above mentioned,